


When Skies Are Grey

by Shamera



Category: Final Fantasy XIII Series, Final Fantasy XIII-2
Genre: Gen, M/M, Paradox Ending: The Future is Hope, honestly this could easily be taken as friendship if you like, that's kind of how I like writing things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2134494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamera/pseuds/Shamera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It rained the day of Hope's prophesied assassination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Skies Are Grey

  
He woke slowly, the darkness of his surroundings and the aches in his body only encouraging his prolonged stay unconscious. But there was something important… something he had to check on, something he needed to get up for because as awareness slowly took hold, so did residual panic. Why? He had no reason to panic, except that he _hurt_ and that meant something was wrong and —  
  
"Shh." Came a voice, low and quiet and calm enough that it cut straight through his panic. "Don’t move — you’ve got broken ribs. Don’t — just. Stay still."  
  
The voice was familiar. Hope! Noel’s eyes opened finally, suddenly, and he breathed in deep in order to respond only to have pain fill his senses as his lungs pressed against something wrong, something broken. It was a pain that made him seize up, unable to help himself even as it worsened his condition until a cool hand on his forehead pushed him back down.  
  
He couldn’t see, though. It was dark, completely dark. Noel would have imagined himself blind had it not been for the tiniest flecks of reflective light in falling raindrops that his eyes automatically fixated on, the only thing other than darkness in his vision. Raining. It was raining. He wasn’t under direct rainfall, though.  
  
 _What happened?_  
  
Flashes. He remembered flashes. _Gunfire._ There had been assailants, and he had run instead of fought. Why? _They_ had run. He had run because he didn’t want to get Hope caught up in all of the fighting by accident. His first priority was to get Hope out, to get the other man to safety, before going back to deal with the armed gunmen. The military could take care of it before Noel got to them. They had been running down the streets of Academia, running to one of the designated safety areas when —  
  
There had been a force. Not gunfire. More like an _aeroga_ , but not quite. A pressure and Hope’s hand had nearly slipped from his grasp. It wasn’t acceptable. Noel was there to keep the scientist safe, to make sure that the planned assassination didn’t go through, to protect Hope and everything he stood for, and he wasn’t going to fail in that endeavour.  
  
So instead of moving forward, Noel turned to follow Hope.  
  
He remembered _falling._ He remembered grabbing onto the other man and _twisting,_ remembered a moment when Hope’s pale green eyes widened (in surprise? In fear? In pain?) and the sound of gunshots before Noel tucked the scientist’s head under his chin as the both of them fell.  
  
He doesn’t remember anything after that.  
  
It was extremely dark.  
  
A hand was pressing against his side tentatively, and Noel hissed his displeasure at the light touch, resisting the urge to curl up into a ball even as he searched his mind for one of his meagre _Cure_ spells. It didn’t seem to want to come to him. He could use it well enough when it was Serah in trouble, when it was anyone else in trouble, but Serah had once laughed at him after a battle and told him outright that he never could seem to grasp the spell when he himself was injured. She was right — the knowledge of casting seemed to float away like water through his fingers.  
  
"Three broken ribs." Hope surmised after his prodding was done, which Noel was extremely grateful for. It took the hunter a moment after the haze of pain to note curiously that the other man didn’t sound like he was speaking from above him. Rather, Hope sounded like he was spread out on the ground as well, his voice coming from the side rather than if he had been checking Noel from above. It made him reach out blindly for the hand that had retreated, gripping it tightly when he found him.  
  
Noel frowned. Hope’s hand was wet and slippery. Was he under the rain?  
  
"Are you hurt?" He asked, voice hoarse. There was still urgency in the situation. Noel didn’t know how far they had fallen, how much distance they managed to put between themselves and the assailants. Without his spells, he was currently down for the count and he didn’t know who might come for them first — the Academy or the assassins. If it was the latter, then Hope would have to keep going without him. _He_ would have to convince the other man to keep going without him.  
  
There was a momentary silence, filled only by soft breathing and the wet drips of rainwater. Then a huff of breath, which Noel took for Hope’s quiet under-the-breath chuckling. The kind of laugh that meant he wasn’t actually amused at all. “Your ribs are broken, you might have internal bleeding, and that’s the first thing you ask?”  
  
Noel tugged at the hand, and frowned. Hope really was beside him instead of… why was that? It didn’t matter. He wished there was just a little bit more light. It would have be reassuring to be able to see the other man right now. He wanted to convince Hope to run, to go somehow, but didn’t know how to start. The scientist was stubborn, was never the type to leave someone behind, but Noel needed to keep him _safe._  
  
"I’ll heal." Noel stated reassuringly. And he would. Give him enough time and the fog around his brain should go away, and he’d be able to cure himself. The person he was most worried for right now was Hope, though. If the assassins found them now, Noel wouldn’t be able to protect him at all. He doubted he’d be able to get up at the moment, much less fight armed gunmen away. "I’m more worried about you."  
  
Noel didn’t remember hitting the ground, and was rather glad not to have memories of that pain, but he wanted to make sure that he had saved Hope from that fall. He knew how to take a fall, how to brace and roll to lesson the damage.  
  
The hand under his own turned, and in a rare move that made Noel’s breath hitch, curled their fingers together. Hope, as Noel had known him, had never been a very tactile person. It was always Noel who initiated touch, who tended to leave a hand on Hope’s shoulder or physically drag him along when he felt the silver-haired man was being too slow and stubborn. The hunter always took it as an accomplishment when Hope didn’t duck away from his touches like he did Alyssa’s, instead opting to turn pale green eyes on him, studying him for long moments each time Noel initiated touch.  
  
"Worry about yourself." Hope told him, and Noel wished really hard that he could actually see the other man at the moment.  
  
"Yeah, you would say that." Noel breathed out, attempting to regulate the pain in his chest in order to form more words. He had to make a good argument for Hope to go, and it had to be very good because he knew Hope was stubborn when it came to leaving people. "Hope, listen. If those men get here — you need to leave. I can take care of myself, but I can’t take care of you too right now, and —"  
  
"Noel. Stop. _Stop._ ”  
  
There was a thread of pain in Hope’s previously controlled and calm tone, and Noel stopped speaking immediately. There was a shifting, and the hunter could hear Hope’s breathing hitch for a moment, a hiss, and then a careful exhale.  
  
"Even if you wanted me to, I wouldn’t be able to run right now." Hope finally admitted. "I’m a little… incapacitated."  
  
Noel grit his teeth, unsure whether it was because of the pain or because… “How incapacitated?”  
  
There was another moment of careful thought, moments that Noel had learned to recognize because _Hope always did this._ He always took that extra moment to sort out his thoughts and word things so carefully that the person he was talking to wouldn’t understand the depth of a situation if the scientist didn’t want them to.  
  
"Getting up may prove a problem."  
  
Noel breathed out, attempting to gather his scattered thoughts in that one breath. “Okay. Okay. We’ll stay here, then. It’s dark here. The bad guys might not find us. Heck, your Academy might find us first. That’s fine.”  
  
Hope made no response to that, and Noel felt dread gathering in his gut. He tugged at the hand in his grasp, and then scooted as much as he was able, ignoring the pressure in his chest at the movement. There was something wrong, something he wasn’t getting or didn’t want to get, in this situation. They were sitting ducks out here, just waiting for one side or the other to find them.  
  
Gathering both his strength and his courage, Noel twisted to his side and grasped with his free arm to find Hope’s side, to tug the other man closer despite the hiss of pain which followed. If they were just going to stay there, then Noel would do his damnest to keep Hope as safe as possible.  
  
"Noel?" Came the questioning tone, and Noel ignored the question to pull the scientist closer, now able to feel the slight tremors that ran through the other’s frame.  
  
"We’ll wait, then." He responded. "And I’ll be better before you know it and then we’ll get out of here and I’m going to beat down those men and get you somewhere safe. After that, we’ll see about those guards at the Academy since they’re slacking if they’re going to allow anyone remotely dangerous anywhere near you."  
  
There was a huffed breath of laughter, and Noel could feel Hope’s fingers shaking under his grip.  
  
"Yeah… That sounds good."  
  
"So just… Give me a few minutes and I’ll get right on that."  
  
There was silence after that, nothing more than the gentle fall of rain echoing down to them from the top level of Academia as Noel attempted to stave off the cold for both of them, and Hope’s breathing grew more and more shallow as time passed. Noel still couldn’t see much, although his eyes had adjusted to the point that he could make out the other man’s silhouette and the faint glow that reflected off Hope’s pale hair. He wanted to see what was going on, what was wrong, but at the same time he despaired over the thought. What if the situation was so bad that he couldn’t fix it?  
  
He couldn’t bear the thought.  
  
"You’re tense."  
  
Noel startled at the words, focusing in the direction of Hope’s voice.  
  
"That’s detrimental to your situation right now." Hope paused a moment. "You need to relax, or your muscles will strain your ribs and make your injury worse."  
  
"Trust me, I’m trying." Noel muttered, clutching the other man closer reflexively until he could feel wisps of platinum hair against his nose. He didn’t like being out in the open like this, helpless. "Just give me a moment."  
  
As if sensing his unease, Hope spoke. “You’ll be fine.”  
  
"Yeah, so will you." Noel responded, feeling Hope breathe against his collarbone. The breath was feather-light, warm and almost silent as the two of them waited and Noel struggled to grasp onto his magic.  
  
It was several long minutes before Hope made a sound again, this time a quiet hum, each note separated so much that it took several of them before Noel realized it was a song. The sounds vibrated in his bones, soothing, even as Hope paused every four to five notes to take another breath, cold air brushing against Noel’s skin.  
  
While it didn’t sound like much of a song, it was enough to relax the hunter, to allow him to close his eyes and search inside himself for that healing magic, for that intuitive urge to fix himself when he was hurt and help others. He didn’t notice when Hope stopped humming, too deep in his meditative state. He _would_ get them out before the enemy found them. He would.  
  
When Noel opened his eyes again, it was with a calm and determination and grasp of his healing magic again. He’d get them out. But first…  
  
"Hope?" He asked, shifting them as he slid his free hand down the wet, wet clothing. It was odd. The wetness was warm unlike the rain, and there were small holes in the thick Academy uniform. "Where are you hurt?"  
  
He waited.  
  
"…Hope?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was 'imagine character A singing You Are My Sunshine to character B as one lay dying in the other's arms'. I opted for humming, because singing takes a lot more energy and breath if you think about it.


End file.
